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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25949965">let's play a love game</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/livmoores/pseuds/livmoores'>livmoores</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pole Dancing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 07:28:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,641</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25949965</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/livmoores/pseuds/livmoores</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It goes like this for Sylvain: a boy, a girl, a pole, and a very vivid imagination.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>let's play a love game</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>lmao this was supposed to be for sylvgrid smut weekend but.... here we are. </p><p>was this revenge??? kind of. it's more of a personal challenge since I generally don't write smut for the sakes of writing smut and it's more of an add on to a story I'm writing but yolo, i guess.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When Ingrid had asked him to meet him at the gym, there had been a different image in his mind. </span>
  <span>The gym he was picturing had treadmills, stairclimbers, weights and a boxing bag. Hell, he was picturing a boxing gym with a ring over </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The gym he was standing in, quite awkwardly, was open, empty and contained four sets of poles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Had he walked into a strip club?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you were joking when you said you took strip classes, Ing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They are not strip classes!” Ingrid huffed as she tied up the laces to her shoes (nine-inch pleasers, her personal favourite, and the shoes she was wearing to her competition.) “Pole dancing is a legitimate form of exercise and is a hell of a workout. It’s also a competitive sport.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you give them money instead of them giving it to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blonde stood up and Sylvain raised an eyebrow. Those shoes added </span>
  <em>
    <span>height</span>
  </em>
  <span> and defined her already toned legs. Ingrid was wearing a cover-up but he didn’t need any help thinking about what they looked like. Clearing his mind, he turned his attention back to Ingrid. The last thing he needed to think about was Ingrid’s bare legs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look. The only reason I invited you is that I need a male’s honest feedback on my piece. Dorothea and Byleth give great advice in the form of teaching and finer technique, but given the competence of the style I’ve chosen for my first competition, I need a male’s feedback. Dimitri would fumble and blush, Felix would make fun of me and I can’t trust Claude not to leak it to Hilda,” Ingrid said as she pulled her cover-up over her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I trust you to not leak it and to give me your feedback.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words “I trust you” were lost when Ingrid took off her cover-up. Sylvain had no idea what to expect; he only knew about lingerie that was associated with pole dancing and that was because of the many strip-clubs he had been to. He cleared his throat as he looked Ingrid up and down, making no qualms about his ogling. She was wearing black shorts (were they even shorts? They showed off half of her </span>
  <em>
    <span>well-defined</span>
  </em>
  <span> ass) that went up to her belly-button, crisscrossed with some type of lace that showed off most of her stomach. Her top matched with the lace and criss-cross and a </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>revealing plunge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How in the </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell </span>
  </em>
  <span>did her boobs manage to look so perky? And why did he agree to watch her routine? Sylvain was in trouble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you make any reference as to how I looked in this outfit outside of this environment, I will slit your throat with my heal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain believed her. She gestured to the chair in the back for him to take a seat. The redhead wasn’t sure how much sitting down would help because he could already feel his erection growing.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Think about anything else. Anything else, Sylvain. Dead puppies. Dead kittens? Ingrid’s grandma? Felix’s obsession with Annette? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The last one did the trick and his shoulders relaxed. Sylvain allowed his gaze back up to his friend, who had dimmed the lights, had her phone next to her and was lying on the floor. He was curious but knew not to poke at the bear. He was already facing his issue of fighting a raging hard-on for his friend simply because she was dressed provocatively.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ingrid rolled on the floor and got on all fours, arching her back as she reached out for her phone to hit play. It gave him a great view of her ass. It made him wonder why bother with the shorts at all? All he would have to do is barely move them an inch to the side and he could have his tongue at her clit and a finger-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope, nope, nope,” he muttered to himself as he slumped back in his chair. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lovegame </span>
  </em>
  <span>was playing and he cursed Sothis at the irony. If he focused on her face instead of the rest of her body, he wouldn’t be distracted and could provide the feedback she was looking for. It was an easy enough task, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wrong. Sylvain was so wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ingrid had swung her legs up around the pole and pulled herself up, using her legs to hook herself onto the pole. Her movements were slow and deliberate, matching the pace of the song. She was confident and comfortable with the way she moved. It was a look he hadn’t seen her wear in a long time and it brought a small smile to his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sentimental moment was gone as Sylvain realized Ingrid was holding herself up with her </span>
  <em>
    <span>thighs</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gripped the side of his seat as he thought about Ingrid’s thighs and how smooth they would feel under his touch. He could see her whimpering under his touch as he pulled her thighs apart, his grip hard enough it would leave bruises against her pale skin. He would pull her close and slip his hand under her ass to cup it and pull her closer to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain would listen to her beg as his fingers would rub circles around her clit and just when her toes would start to curl and she was close to finishing, he would pull back. He would listen to her whine and </span>
  <em>
    <span>beg </span>
  </em>
  <span>for his touch. She would be incoherent and halfway through her pleading when he would slam into her, filling her up.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Gods</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she would be so wet as he pounded her, one hand still cupping her ass. It would-be missionary, perhaps a bit boring, but he could see how her tits would bounce up and down with their movement and the look of ecstasy on her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of a thump brought Sylvain out of his fantasy. The beat had dropped and Ingrid was on the floor, her hips rolling to the music as her hand gripped the pole for support. There was a slight jiggle to her ass and with the next lyric, she was doing splits. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the hell had she become that flexible?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He let out a low whistle. Ingrid was too engrossed in her routine to notice his comment. She rolled out of her splits, gripped the pole and spread her legs wide in a V shape. Sylvain sucked in a breath as Ingrid clicked her heels together two times. She had rolled her head back and Sylvain could see the sweat glistening her skin. And her thighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Goddess</span>
  </em>
  <span>, her thighs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain wanted her to wrap his thighs around his face and squeeze. If he died because Ingrid was squeezing the life out of him with her thighs and he was buried in between her legs, he would die a happy man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His pants were uncomfortably tight as his erection grew. He knew he should try and hide it and think about anything other than Ingrid’s body as she bounced up and down on his cock but found it impossible. There was no point in hiding it. Was this the reaction she wanted? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ingrid’s heels clicked on the floor as she wrapped her hand around the pole and swung, her legs moving fluidly with the tempo of the music. She wrapped her left leg around the pole and opened her legs. Sylvain could feel his eyes rolling in the back of his head as he gripped the edges of the seat to control himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was engrossed in his fantasy. Ingrid would be done with her routine, her body glistening with sweat and a proud smile on her face and he would walk over and push her against the wall. Sylvain would slide his hand under her sports bra, cupping her breast as he left a trail of kisses down her neck. With his hand palming her breast, he would start to suck on her skin once he got to the top of her breasts. The idea of littering Ingrid with hickeys (or as he called them, love bites) was so </span>
  <em>
    <span>damn sexy</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ingrid would whimper and plead and Sylvain would smile against her skin. With his free hand, he would run it down her toned stomach and pull on the elastic waistband of her shorts before dipping a hand in. He would tease her clit, earning more moans from her, as he sucked on her breasts. Once she was wet and ready, he would slide a finger in an-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sylvain!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain blinked. Ingrid was standing in front of him and waving her hands to get his attention. He cleared his throat and readjusted his position. His erection was obvious. It was a good thing they were dating. Were they dating? That didn’t seem right. They were in the weird limbo of them exclusively having sex with each other but hadn’t talked. That was a conversation for another day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” He asked, his voice weak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A smirk played on Ingrid’s lips. She had noticed his glazed overlook and the fact that he kept shifting in his chair around the chorus of the song. It was the reaction she was hoping to have even if she wouldn’t admit it. Her piece was sensual and designed to elicit a reaction. Sylvain’s enthusiasm was a bonus. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you think?” She asked sweetly, the smirk growing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think we need to get out of here before I fuck you on the floor,” Sylvain replied honestly. He focused his gaze on the floor because he knew if he looked at Ingrid, the impulse control that he was barely holding onto would shatter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ingrid’s hand cupped his chin and she pulled his attention back to her. Sylvain groaned and Ingrid chuckled as she leaned in and gave him a chaste kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good thing it’s just us and I locked the door.”</span>
</p>
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